


Comfort In Ubiquity, Happiness In Change

by Tooti_Fruity



Series: Crazy In Love, In The Year 3000 [1]
Category: Futurama
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, F/F, M/M, Multi, Purple Prose, and all my fics have some element of that, because i love projection, now tagged for homophobia because im sad and gay, tw suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11520105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tooti_Fruity/pseuds/Tooti_Fruity
Summary: Bender was not made for great things. Hell, he was barely made to do anything at all.He had one functional purpose in his life of absolute subjugation to humanity; bending. It’s what he had been named for, and it was what he was good at, and it had gotten him out of trouble on more than one occasion, but it was certainly not what he’d call glamorous, and it definitely didn’t make him special, not when bots like him came a dime a dozen.Bender never expected for fate to drop a dense caveman from the year 2000 into his lap on the day he planed to kill himself, nor did he expect to grow fond of him; then again, the universe really seemed to get off on throwing him for a loop.





	1. Feeling Like A Loser, Feeling Like A Bum

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to (another) new series! New stuff will be coming for me and rowan_one's 90s au soon, and I have plans to write a sequel to my fusion fic, which will sadly probably be the last installment, as I have no idea where to take it after the idea I have.
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy and drop a review if you have any thoughts! :D_  
> 

Bender was not made for great things. Hell, he was barely made to do anything at all.

He had one functional purpose in his life of absolute subjugation to humanity; bending. It’s what he had been named for, and it was what he was good at, and it had gotten him out of trouble on more than one occasion, but it was certainly not what he’d call glamorous, and it definitely didn’t make him special, not when bots like him came a dime a dozen.

That’s what they told him every day at the place he worked at, the factory he had been sent to only months after his creation in a nearly identical one in Tijuana. It was the factory he had worked at his entire life, and after hearing the same thing every day of his life, over the years he learned to pay it no mind; he was expendable and unimportant and absolutely ordinary, and that he could stand.

Bender didn’t care. He was a cog in a cooperate machine, and he could appreciate the ruthlessness of the entrepreneurs who created him because he often utilized their methods himself, albeit on a smaller scale. Who gives a fuck about whether that guy you just scammed wasted his rent money on a phony product? Who cares if you just stole food from the mouth of a hungry kid? Why should he care that he just ruined an orphaned bot’s chance of getting new legs or a potentially life changing hardware upgrade? It’s a dog eat dog world, and life was never fair to him, so why the hell should he be fair to others? Sooner or later, the coddling had to end; you can’t stay gullible forever, or you get screwed over, if not by Bender, then by someone far worse. In a bizarre way, Bender’s delinquency could be seen as a form of community service; give a schmuck your twenty, he never wizens up, steal twenty from a schmuck, and he’ll learn not to travel to the wrong part of town with his wallet visible.

**********************

Every few months, a representative of Mom Corp office number 824 came to visit and inspect the facilities; not to evaluate worker welfare, of course, as the very reason that humans had made robots was to populate their factories and sweatshops with beings with no organic needs and no legal rights. No, it was, in fact, for the exact opposite reason: so that they could check on production and figure out cheaper and more efficient ways to produce their goods, which often meant how they could exploit their employees.

So, while science advanced and robots grew in sentience over the years, their legal protections did not; it was just too costly to establish basic workers’ rights for a race that populated the workforce of incredibly dangerous (and often degrading) jobs. They remained powerless for the same reason that the underpaid workers of Rockefeller and Carnegie and Morgan did; the lives of the poor, desperate, and disenfranchised meant little when serious money was to be made.

But there was one person who came, they must have been new. Their eyes were too soft, their voice too eager, their face too full of hope. And when they toured the factory, clutching a clipboard in the exact way that gave away that they had never used one, they looked horrified at the conditions; bots who fell into machines were allowed to break. After all, who cares about a robot who could easily be replaced? It was cheaper to let them die. And robots could lose entire limbs on the assembly lines if they weren’t careful. All it would take was one night of not powering down or drinking too little for their disorientation to render them unfit to work properly. Few bots could afford the insurance necessary to replace an entire section of their body properly, at least legally; their very existence was a contract binding them to their manufactures, making updates and replacements parts impossibly expensive when sadistic CEOs no longer had competitors. And since the parts themselves were dirt cheap to make, when a bot couldn’t pay the insane price for medical care, it was more profitable to replace them.

The foreman used no discretion when telling the representative this within earshot of the employees; every bot there knew from the second they came into existence, they belonged to Mom Corp, heart, mind, and soul, so therefore, anything that furthered the company was the correct choice, even if it was made at their own expense. Most bots were completely at peace with, and some even celebratory over, the notion that they were effectively worthless when they weren’t well enough to do their job, and if they didn’t believe it, they had grown too apathetic or afraid to protest.

The representative looked appalled at the explanation of this system and asked for a minute alone to catch their breath, and as soon as they disappeared around the corner into a hallway identical to every other one in the factory, they ran into Bender.

“I’m so sorry, I-” they began, still breathless. Bender rolled his optics and leaned indifferently against the closet wall as he cut them off.

“Fuhgeddaboudit, sweet cheeks. New here?” he asked. They shook their head, still a little dazed.

“No, I’m here from headquarters. They sent me to check on this factory, and I’m going to detail just how deplorable the conditions are here in my report!” Bender tutted and shook his head sardonically.

“Then you’re new at headquarters,” he corrected. They gawked.

“How did you know that?”

“Honestly? Because you reek of the type of optimism that most cooperations kill after the first week,” And at the indignant and embarrassed look the rep gave him, he smirked.

“Listen up, toots,” he continued. “I’m gonna give you some advice; leave your conscience at the door every morning when you clock in at your 9 to 5. Don’t think about your coworkers or their lives outside of work; don’t see the robots you report on as people. As far as you’re concerned, we don’t have a mind of our own. Focus on how you can cut cost. You’re a bureaucrat now, and political or not, you have no soul. You’re not allowed to, not in this line of work,”

The rep, while still aghast with what they had been told by the foreman, still managed to look a little sour at the condescension lacing Bender’s tone.

“Well, for someone who claims robots don’t have a mind of their own, you certainly are mouthy,” they huffed.

Bender fell silent, optics somehow boring into their soul as deeply and uncomfortably as any organic eye could, and they worried that they had offended the wisecracker, but after about ten seconds of tense silence, the bot cracked a smile and let out a bark of laughter.

“So, you do have a setting other than helpless and confused or morally outraged. Good to know,” And with that, he closed the small distance between the two of them and stuck out one three fingered hand. “I’m Bender,” They hesitated, before grabbing the palm of his outstretched hand.

“Melanie Linemen. And for the record, I started last week,” they replied. Bender gave a smug look.

“Called it,” he chided. Melanie scowled.

“Yes, well, forgive me for having human decency,” they grumbled. Bender laughed once more, shaking his head and sighing.

“Human ain’t got nothin’ to do with it, baby. You’re dealing with bots now,” And, releasing their palm, he turned away and sauntered down the short distance of the hall.

“Wait!” Melanie called. He turned around, one hand gesturing lazily.

“Yeah?” he responded.

“Uh…thanks for, um, your help. And um…being so nice,” His mouth plate shifted as to give the illusion of a grin.

“Don’t get used to it; you’re at Mom Corp now,”

And just like a dream, he was gone.

**********************

When Bender found out what he had been made to do, what his department specialized in, he wasn’t particularly surprised; after all, the Suicide Booth business was booming. It was funny how even as technology continued to advance at an increasingly accelerated pace, improving the lives of millions everywhere, humans still found new and creative reasons as to why the world was terrible. It was always something morbidly hilarious, a little slice of irony that, at least in this regard, robots would always be superior; humans had yet to accept the futility of life, the meaninglessness of existence, in the way robots had.

And yet, it was still the ultimate insult at the same time. Robots were slaves to their creators, whether they be the product of a kid’s science project or a multimillion dollar corporation, so in his opinion, the act of a chosen death, of having the choice as to whether you live or die and the liberty to legally act on that decision was the greatest freedom humanity held.

Bender knew that the only reason he was laughing was not because of the sick joke itself, but because he knew it was the only thing that could keep him from crying; his entire creation was founded on the intentions of allowing humanity to throw away an existence that most robots dream of, would kill for, no matter how destitute the conditions. It was the ultimate slap in the face.

So, Bender decided that, if he was going out, it was going to be an act of defiance, a final “fuck you” to the species he hated most. He was going to clear his schedule for the very next day, have one last good drink, and then he was going to march right up to the Suicide Booth three blocks from his job and end his life. He hadn’t decided how he wanted it; it was a choice he savored making, because for the first time, he could be sure that it would be entirely his; self-preservation, being a basic instinct of any sentient being and a fundamental part of his calibration, guaranteed that his programing would play absolutely no part in it. He could die knowing that, at least for once, he had spit in the face of every single human who had ever said that robots couldn’t choose things for themselves, that they didn’t have the capacity to defy their design.

He finally settled on a Suicide Booth. It was poetic, a true slice of dramatic irony; dying by the hands of your own unwitting creation. Bender had always been a fan of bookends, and to make his life one seemed damn near perfect. At least, as perfect as Bender might be able to make it.

**********************

Bender still believed that the decision to end his life was the best one he ever made. Not because he had chosen to die, but because he would meet the best person he knew there by chance.

The man in question was one Philip J. Fry, though he introduced himself by his surname and failed to mention it for so long that Bender had spent nearly a year not knowing his first name wasn’t actually ‘Fry’, and, true to his character, he had wandered up to a Suicide Booth, mistaking it for a place to call people.

How quaint; a phone that doesn’t go in your eyes.

“Wow! A real live robot!” Fry had exclaimed. His excitement had been short lived, however, when common sense managed to catch up, even with someone as dense as him. “Or is that some kind of cheesy New Year's costume?” Bender scowled.

“Bite my shiny metal ass,” he snapped, crossing his arms. But true to his nature, Fry paid no mind to the blatant insult, instead choosing to focus in on the most unimportant detail of his retort.

“It doesn't look so shiny to me,” he replied suspiciously.

“Shinier than yours, meatbag,” he quipped, feeling the intense urge to facepalm.

The idiot, paying no mind to Bender’s surly demeanor, stepped up to the Booth and proceeded to act like a complete cretin, as if he had never seen a Booth in his lousy stinkin’ life. Bender began to grow annoyed, tapping his foot in irritation, before finally losing his patience.

“Listen, buddy, I'm in a hurry here. Let's try for a two-fer!” he suggested. And without waiting for the human to reply, he shoved his way into the booth and inserted his quarter on a string, drawing it back after the machine had scanned it as payment.

 _Even when I’m about to kill myself, I still got it!_ He mused smugly.

What he wasn’t expecting was that Fry’s first instinct was to protect them both. He could have just flown back, plastering himself to the wall of the Booth and getting the hell out of dodge once he could, but he took the extra moment to risk his own skin and pull Bender back _with him_. So, when they emerged from the Booth moments later, Fry stumbling onto the pavement, gulping in air and looking mildly queasy, Bender felt a strange fondness for the stranger, and he figured the kid could use a drink.

“Well, I didn’t have anything else planned for the day. Let’s go get drunk!”

**********************

Bender had no idea what to think; clearly this schmuck had no idea where the hell he was, or, as he’d come to find out, when he was. He asked questions akin to those of a grade schooler, things kids in this time would pick up on long before they were his age.

“Why would a robot need to drink?” he questioned, taking a sip of his drink. Bender downed the rest of his beer, resolving to give the kid a hard time.

“I don't need to drink, I can quit anytime I want!” he replied vaguely, letting out a large belch. “So, they made you a delivery boy, huh? Man, that's as bad as my job,” Fry quirked a brow.

“Really? What do you do, Bender?” Bender let out a cynical laugh.

“I'm a bender. I bend girders, that's all I'm programmed to do,” Bender couldn’t help the sadness that crept into his voice on the last few words, but before he could dwell on it for too long, Fry cut in, responding obliviously.

“You any good at it?” he asked, taking another drink.

“You kidding? I was a star! I could bend a girder to any angle, 30 degrees, 32 degrees, you name it!” He hesitated only momentarily before continuing. “…31. But I couldn't go on living once I found out what the girders were for,”

“What were they for?”

“Suicide Booths!” he responded grimly, downing his whole drink and swallowing the bottle. “Well, Fry, it was a pleasure meeting you. I'm gonna go kill myself,”

But as he turned to leave, he felt the wind shift as Fry stumbled to his feet.

“Wait! You’re the only friend I have!” he cried. Bender froze.

All his life, he had felt nothing but abuse and disdain from humans, known nothing but complete domination and enslavement. His whole reason for meeting this strange human was his first and only act of objective free will, a criterion only achieved by the total lack of agency he knew and a decision driven by the dead end of the unkempt backroad that was his life. Who wanted a bender who refused to bend? What human wanted a robot as a _friend_?

Bender turned around slowly, keeping his face as neutral as possible.

“You really want a robot for a friend?” he asked, trying to disguise his hesitancy and wariness. The unspoken question hung tensely in the air, at least on his end.

_You really see me as an equal?_

Luckily, Fry proved to be as dense as ever, nodding enthusiastically.

“Yeah, ever since I was six,” he insisted.

“Well…okay,” Bender finally relented. “But I don't want people thinking we're robosexuals! So, if anyone asks, you're my debugger,”

Truthfully, Bender was speaking mostly for Fry’s sake; he was, in fact, a robosexual himself, finding no reason to restrict himself only to femmes and manbots. After all, you only get to live once; why waste it trying to deny yourself the simplest pleasures in life?

It was never about love, though; Bender had long decided not to get involved emotionally. And while some might claim it was some bizarre internalized robophobia, truth be told, Bender never felt the desire to commit to anyone. No, he had no issue with his identity, closeting himself mostly for practicality’s sake; he simply didn’t think it was fair to not give Fry a head’s up. He was only just unfrozen, and he would need time to figure out what he wanted. He didn’t need the unnecessary stress that came with a stigma that might not even actually apply to him.

It was only seconds later when Fry suddenly grew panicked, ducking down and claiming a woman who was chasing him was in sight. Bender could already feel himself getting roped into this mess and sighed.

Well, like he had said before. He was free for the rest of the day.

**********************

_You were right, Fry! From now on I'm going to bend what I want, when I want, who I want! I'm unstoppable!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But Tooti, don't you have like fourteen other fics to finish?"
> 
>  
> 
> _Let me procrastinate in peace, damnit._


	2. Lonely Heart's Club, Do You Want To Be With, Somebody Like Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fry plans a proposal; Bender won't be able to live with himself if he lets him go through with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two; she has arrived. Enjoy!

Falling in love with Fry feels a lot like being forced awake when you were sleeping.

Bender has no idea what actual, literal sleep feels like; all he knows is that it entails dreams sometimes and that it takes humans _forever_ to do it. Bender can power down for between four and five hours and be fully rested. He does know enough about it, though, to produce this metaphor, because he’s been living with Fry for nearly five years before he’s able to admit it to himself, and by then he’d seen Fry sleep so often that, if was physically capable, he could do it in his _sleep_ (no pun intended).

Bender has gathered that sleeping is messy, and it usually entails lots of movement if you’re stressed and unable to relax fully, and it involves dreams from time to time, though how often depends on the person. He also knows that waking up can be equally varied, and whether it’s shooting up from a horrible nightmare or prying crusty eyes open at the shrieks of a noisy alarm clock, it’s rarely pleasant.

Bender feels like he’s reached the stage of sleep where he’s just woken up, but he wants desperately to hit snooze and roll back over and pretend he didn’t just see the time in irritating red letters. He knows, objectively speaking, that he’s in love with Fry; there’s no other conclusion he could’ve reached at this point, after the amount of times he’s put his ass on the line for him, even when there was nothing to be gained on his end but seeing his best friend happy. He’d resigned himself to a fate of eternal torment in the name of Fry living to what would be a pitiful age to a robot, like a human gladly crashing their car and dying to save a caterpillar on the road, and when he was offered an afterlife of endless pleasures and bliss for his selflessness, he had demanded to return to Earth, because no paradise could truly be heaven without Fry there. He’d given up a status of godhood, returning to an existence that was definitely mortal due to his defective hardware, just to tell the man he loved that he that he would marry someone else. For Christ’s sake, he had flown a pirate ship through _another dimension_ to bring him home, because even a world he ruled, an entire world that was now his own house, would never be _home_ without Fry there to watch infomercials and skip work with.

Yeah. He was fucking boned.

So, as the alarm clock of figuring out he loved Fry was ringing in his ears, he felt nothing but the instinct to push ‘snooze’ and pretend he hadn’t heard it. Nothing good could come of loving a human man who had only ever loved women, regardless of species. And even if the feelings were reciprocated, their lives would be absolute hell. Earth lived on a system of “never mind that”, like the archaic “don’t ask, don’t tell” mentality; a manbot fucking humans was fine, hell, a manbot fucking human _men_ was okay, as long as you ended up with a nice femmebot in the end.

But all the same, the idea of curling up on the couch with Fry and watching the same All My Circuits episodes for the 100th time, drinking in his reactions and leaning in for a soft kiss during breaks, the thought of falling asleep with Fry’s entire body wrapped around him, mostly naked skin pressed to his metal as he snored peacefully, of one day asking Fry to take his name, made him feel drunk with a giddiness he hadn’t allowed himself in years; if only it wasn’t always tempered with the bitter tang of knowing his affection would only ever be onesided. He wanted Fry, sweat and blood and tears and _baggage_ -all of it, beautiful and ugly, easy and difficult.

**********************

Bender can’t breathe.

_All this time, I've been wondering if I can spend my life with her, but what I realize now is I can't spend my life without her!_

Bender doesn’t need to breathe. But all the same, he feels winded and his head feels light, and his thoughts are racing manically as Fry’s words ring in his (non-existent) ears.

_All this time, I've been wondering if I can spend my life with her, but what I realize now is I can't spend my life without her! So tomorrow, I'm asking her to marry me!_

_So tomorrow, I'm asking her to marry me!_

_I'm asking her to marry me!_

_Marry me!_

He’s going to marry her.

_I’ve lost._

**********************

Bender spends the whole night at a seedy bar, but he refuses to order anything that will keep him coherent. He doesn’t want to remember what Fry said.

He doesn’t want to remember anything anymore.

The bartender gives him a confused and slightly concerned look when he orders a glass of water and sullenly put his head down, but he leaves him alone after that.

“Alright man, what’s bothering ya?” a voice above his obscured vision asks. Bender peaks up to see the barman from before staring down at him.

Well. Spoke too soon.

Bender’s head feels like it’s full of wet cotton as he tries to process what was just asked of him.

“Mm fine, ya jerk!” he slurs, barely able to hold himself upright. The bartender crosses his arms and gives him a look, and he scowls as he shifts his gaze to the taxidermized lion’s head on the wall to his right. He wonders if it’s real.

“Clearly not,” the barman pries. “Look, I have to close in ten minutes, and I don’t want straggling mopers hanging around, so will ya just spill so you can get whatever’s gotcha in a funk off ya chest and leave?” Bender gives him a sour look.

“Fuck off,” he snaps. The barman sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Fine. Mope all ya like, but those doors are locking in ten, and you’re leaving whether ya like it or not, buddy,”

The bartender turns away, and Bender finally gets a clear view of the room; only one other person is there, on the phone, slurring a plea to someone on the other end to pick him up because he’s too smashed to drive safely. Bender sighs, reading the clock; 1:50 AM. Well shit.

“He’s getting married tomorrow,” he blurts out, too sober to actually give a shit about being discreet anymore. This might be the only chance he gets to vent with no fear of it getting back to Fry; the only person in his life he could trust not to gossip about it is Leela, and she would definitely tell Fry when he popped the question out of guilt.

The barman turns around, his face neutral.

“And you’re in love with him,”

It’s not a question.

“Yeah, love ‘im like crazy…gonna ask his girlfriend to marry him tomorrow,” he says. The barman nods solemnly.

“Think she’ll say yes?” And at that, Bender laughs bitterly.

“No chance she won’t; she loves ‘im with her life,” he responds. The bartender considers this, and after a long moment of consideration, he speaks once more.

“Want my advice? Well, either way, I’m putting it out there. Take it as you will. Anyways, my advice? Tell him everything. If this guy really means this much to you, the least you can do is be completely honest with him; and if you two are close, he’ll get over it. Who knows, maybe he likes you back!” Bender shakes his head and begins to respond, but he’s swiftly cut off.

“Ah, closing time. Sorry buddy, wish I could talk, but I make minimum wage and God himself couldn’t keep me here past the end of my shift. Time to hit the road,” Bender sulks, but he acknowledges the command and gives a small ‘thanks’ before he exits.

**********************

Telling Fry how he really feels is the single scariest thing he’s ever done. Bender takes the day off (or, more accurately, he plays hooky and simply doesn’t show up for work) and sends him a vague message around noon about needing to see him before tonight. Fry reads the messaged and sent back a short and very clearly apprehensive ‘okay’, and Bender doesn’t bother to respond. He’s already nervous enough to feel physically sick, and he doesn’t trust himself not to spill his guts like a damn sap over the phone. He can’t do that.

He needs to say this in person, no matter how hard it may be.

Fry shows up around 3:30, having made up an excuse about food poisoning from his lunch, an excuse that The Professor buys due to the sheer volume of toxic things Fry has consumed over the years. He enters the apartment, shedding his signature red jacket and dropping his keys on the kitchen table. Bender hears him come in the door from their room, but he allows himself a few seconds to steel himself for what could potentially be the end of a friendship that has spanned over a decade.

“Bender? You home?” Well. Here goes nothing.

Bender emerges from his hiding place, desperately attempting to look confident and detached, but from Fry’s concerned expression, he knows he has all the suaveness of a fifteen-year-old boy about to ask a pretty girl to the prom. He reaches Fry quickly, and for a moment he’s silent.

“Hey, you said you needed to talk?” Fry asks, his voice timid. Bender freezes. No time like the present.

“Yeah, um…so. I got something important I need to tell you. And it can’t wait,” Fry nods solemnly.

“Okay. What’s up?” And he looks so sincere that Bender’s metaphorical tongue feels heavier than a lead balloon, and he knows right then that the elaborate and heartfelt speech he had been rehearsing in the bathroom mirror since he woke up was not going to make an appearance today.

“Tonight, you’re going to…marry Leela?” he says.

“Uh…yes, I’m gonna pop the question,” he replies hesitantly. Bender takes a breath he doesn’t need at the confirmation and forces himself to continue.

“Yeah, about that. There’s something important you need to know first,”

Before Bender can get out another word, Fry’s face falls, and he looks so utterly miserable that Bender knows that he _knows_ , and he begins to shake as he waits for Fry’s inevitable rejection, the beginning of the end of their-

“Is she cheating on me again?” he says softly, his voice cracking. Bender gapes, shaking his head wildly.

“No! That’s not it at all,” Fry looks relieved.

“Oh, thank God,” he sighs. “So, um, continue?”

“Right!” Bender blurts. “Yeah, um, so…sometimes, when you’re friends with someone for a while, feelings begin to form, right?”

“Yeah! That’s how it was with me and Leela,” he says. Bender winces.

“Well, I guess you could say I, um, caught feelings for someone. At the worst possible time,” he explains, adding the last bit hastily. And suddenly, Fry’s face breaks out into a grin.

“Bender, you sly dog! What, all this talk of marriage has gotten you all riled up? Alright, who’s the lucky girl? Is it that Lacy girl? She always seemed nice when she was over, I think she really likes you buddy!” Bender groans.

“God, no! You can’t be this dense, you’re-” He freezes. “Of course you’re this dense, it’s what I love about you. But this is a sick joke. You have to know, you have to be fucking with me right now,”

“I’m…what? What are you talking about?”

Bender cackles hysterically, and in seconds, he can feel the dry sobs bubbling up in his chest, knowing that he would be crying if he physically could.

“I. Am. In. Love. With. You! Even when you’re dense, and gross, and a gullible chump! I love you so fucking much it’s killing me. And you’re marrying someone else, but I couldn’t watch you walk away without telling you first. You have to know. I have to tell you, I’d-” he croaks. His voice cuts out halfway through his sentence, swallowed by his grief and self-loathing, and there’s literally nowhere Bender wants to be less than here at the moment.

He spares a glance at Fry, and he sees that his face is completely unreadable. He can almost see the cogs in Fry’s mind turning as he tries to process this new information, the dust-clogged gears whirring as his mind is forced to explore an uncomfortable truth. And finally, he swallows hard after about fifteen unbearable seconds, and he replies,

“I need to think,”

And in seconds, he’s out the door, not even bothering to grab his coat or keys, and Bender has never wanted to die so much, not even when he found out what he was made to do for the first time. Not even when he saw Fry in danger on the Amish world or watched him be carried away by a planet sized alien as he declared Bender didn’t have a soul.

So, when Amy calls him six hours later to tell him to slap some sense into Fry for “forgetting about dinner and standing up his girlfriend”, he allows his chest to feel tight with hope and schadenfreude at Leela’s expense.

**********************

Fry doesn’t come into work for four days after the confession. He doesn’t come home either, not even when he knows Bender will be out, to pick up his coat and keys, which makes Bender feel a little better. That red jacket is the only thing that survived his trip to the year 3000, and he would die before he would let it be lost or ruined, and therefore he would come back for it. But no one has seen him since the day he was supposed to propose, and Bender is starting to get a little worried. Fry’s not the one who disappears to go on soul searching journeys, he is, damnit!

The Professor suggests missing posters; after all, Fry can barely dress himself, let alone live on his own, presumably on the streets, for days on end, and the old man is convinced he got himself mugged or killed or sold into black market slavery on a distant planet. Planet Express isn’t the same without him there, and Bender worries, but he knows Fry will find him because he always does. So, he waits.

It’s all he can do.

**********************

On the sixth day of Fry’s absence, Bender comes home after a late night of drinking to find the apartment lights on, which is odd because he doesn’t remember leaving them on, so he enters the kitchen, cautious of an intruder, and if he had been holding anything, he would’ve certainly dropped it.

Fry is standing over the kitchen sink, hands planted on either side of the chrome finish and head bowed at a painfully acute angle. He doesn’t look up, but Bender knows that he knows he’s there. His shirt is stained and unwashed and his hair is unkempt and equally dirty. His arms tremble as he struggles against his own weight on them, and he when he finally straightens up and turns to look at Bender, it’s immediately obvious that he hasn’t been sleeping enough or eating well, because his face is tired, and though it’s still relatively full and round due to the short length of his absence, there’s something worn and gaunt about it. Bender gulps.

“Hey,” he mutters, desperately wanting to sound casual but knowing that nothing about the situation would warrant it. Fry blinks rapidly, as though he’s just now seeing him for the first time since he came in.

“Hey,” Fry mumbles back, throat scratchy with thirst. “Can we talk?”

Bender’s stiff, uncomfortable nod is enough, and the two end up on the couch. At a closer proximity, Bender can now tell that Fry probably hasn’t showered in a while, and he looks even more flighty up close.

“So,” Bender says.

“Bender, I…owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run out on you like that, I just panicked,” Bender would normally be more upset, but he finished being angry and scared two days ago, and now he feels nothing but relief that Fry is home.

“It’s fine, meatbag. Don’t sweat it,” he mutters. And suddenly Fry, throws up his hands in frustration.

“I just! I was so confused and scared. I didn’t know what to do, I was panicking and I…the thing that scared me most was that I…I wasn’t thinking about how to let you down easy, I was thinking of how much I wanted to kiss you and lock the door and pretend the world around us is gone and it’s just us and-” The fight leaves him. “I’ve spent over a decade loving and chasing Leela. And I do, love her, I mean. But-I’m not ME with her. I’m always fighting to be this-this ideal guy for her, someone who’s smart and strong and brave and knows how to tie his own shoelaces! But I never feel that way with you, and I’m-” He pauses, and then he’s throwing his arms around Benders head and kissing him.

It’s absolute bliss.

Bender has kissed a lot of people in this life, but all pale in comparison to how he feels now. Fry’s lips are warm and chapped, and he probably tastes terrible right now, but that wouldn’t matter even if he could taste him, and it only takes about three seconds for him to thread his stubby metal fingers through the others hair and return the kiss fervently.

It doesn’t go far beyond kissing and blind, hot groping, but it’s better than any sex he’s had in ages, and between kisses, he whispers things that he would kill someone if they ever told, sappy things that would ruin his reputation as a cold-hearted bastard. Fry’s soft and pudgy around his middle from years of junk food, and his eyes are creased at the edges because he’s pushing forty, and Bender will definitely outlive him, but none of that matters, he’s _here_ , he’s here and he’s all Bender’s.

Fry sneaks in fragments of speech between kisses. “Always-” Kiss. “Need you-” Kiss. “Stay with me-” Fry’s on top of him now, running his hands all over him, and Bender could die happy, hands on Fry’s soft hips and stomach as he kisses him.

Bender phones The Professor to tell him that Fry’s home and perfectly okay, but that he’s weak and needs rest and that Bender and him will be in the day after tomorrow.

They push the beds together and don’t leave their apartment for the next two days.

**********************

Bender knows that the subject of Leela is going to have to come up sooner or later, and so he bites the bullet and does it himself. Fry winces when he first mentions her and buries his face in the crook of where Bender’s head meets his torso.

“Can’t that wait?” he asks, his voice small and oddly petulant, like a kid who doesn’t want to discuss a bad grade or the ceramic dish they broke yesterday with their parents. Bender knows it shouldn’t be so endearing, but Fry has him wrapped around his fucking finger, and goddamnit, he REALLY wants to drop it and suggest that they go for round three, but they _need_ to address the Leela shaped elephant in the room.

“Fry…” he tuts. Fry pulls away, scowling slightly, but he relents because he knows Bender is right.

“I…told her. I stopped by her place first. She was super upset, but she understood, and she gave me solid advice,” Bender lets out a sigh of relief.

“And what was her oh so wise advice?” he drawls. Fry gives him a look, rolling his eyes.

“She told me that I was being a big dummy for running out on you, and that I should just be direct with how I felt. And, um, ‘just go for it’, her words, not mine,” He reached one arm behind him and rubbed the back of his neck, propping himself up with the other. “I think she could tell that things were going south for a while. She almost seemed a little relieved. And she promised not to call you until I gave her the okay, she didn’t want to tip you off that I was…you know…” He flushed, glancing away and chuckling nervously. Bender smirked, and without warning, he pulled Fry on top of him, ignoring his scandalized but gleeful cry of surprise.

“That you what? That you had finally wizened up to the fact that I’m a love machine and couldn’t resist my masculine wiles any longer?” Fry snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Psh, hardly. I mean, I did, and you are-” He pauses, only to take in Bender’s preening, before finishing his thought. “But I meant that I liked you for other stuff. Like…how you make your optics extend to stare at my ass when you think I’m not looking. Yes, I notice, Bender. And how you jam out to your favorite folk records. And how you always come up with new nicknames for me. And how you say ‘kill all humans’, even though that last one should probably concern me more, since I’m, ya know, a human,” Bender leans in, pressing his palms against Fry’s face.

“Well, good. I always say ‘except one’ anyway. And that’s you, by the way,” Fry beams.

“I feel special,”

“Mm, good,”

They fall into a comfortable silence, Fry laying flush against Bender on his side and tracing little shapes onto the cool metal of his chest plate, and after a while, Fry falls into a deep sleep. Bender pretends to be annoyed for a second, but he can’t muster the energy to fake it, especially when Fry is already unconscious. He slides down onto his back, careful not to disturb his sleeping boyfriend, and promptly powers down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe that there's more drama to come? Consider this a calm before the storm ;)
> 
>  
> 
>  


	3. Paint Me Any Color, I Can Be Your Clown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bender comes to work early and finds something he wishes he hadn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is gonna be a bit hard to swallow if you're sensitive to homophobia and familial abuse, but rest assured that everything will work out!

When they return to work that Thursday, hand in hand, no one bothers to comment on it if they notice. Leela pointedly avoids them for a few days, keeping things polite and professional but still detached. It always feels like she’s not really listening or thinking about how she’s speaking, like she’s on autopilot.

Bender can’t blame her, and even less so can Fry; the emotional blow he had dealt her was massive, and she was owed time to healed. Even if Leela can be a little scary when she’s suppressing her emotions

For a few weeks, Amy accompanies them on missions. It takes massive brown nosing on her end to The Professor, but eventually he relents, and she proves to be a valuable asset to the delivery team with her nimbleness and wits. Bender and Fry find that they can’t complain, and they can learn to tolerate her in her more irritating moments for Leela’s sake.

And months later, when Bender walks in on them heavily kissing in the break room, he can’t find it in himself to act surprised or even scandalized just to get a rise out of them, especially when he and Fry have been caught doing far worse. It was inevitable, really; broads like Amy and Leela just belong together.

Fry is surprised, but he fails to comment beyond a heartfelt but brief ‘congrats guys!’ and a hug to each of them. The rest of the crew is equally unsurprised but nevertheless supportive, and that seems to be the end of it.

Until it’s not.

**********************

Bender comes into work a little early one morning, only because there was a new episode of All My Circuits that he managed to miss the previous night on at 8 AM sharp, and the TV in the break room is bigger than the one at home. It takes him a moment to notice when he approaches the building, finding it novel that he needs to unlock the doors himself for the first time in years, but it’s still there, in messy, bright red letters, big and ugly and extremely visible. The vandalism is short, but it makes him feel like bile is welling up within him nonetheless.

DYKE MUTTS AND ROBOFAGS WILL ROT

He looks up and notices the glass of the windows above is shattered. There’s a crude image of a robot and a human fucking painted over the sign above the doors.

Bender puts a hole in the brick of the building and swears up a storm as he phones Hermes right away.

**********************

The whole crew is there within the hour, accessing the damage with looks of disgust. Amy’s eyes are red rimmed from her crying, and Leela has an arm around her girlfriend, quietly promising her that Kif is on shore leave and on his way from Miami on the first express ship he could find; Zoidberg is giving a report to the NNYPD about what he heard and saw in the wee hours from his dumpster as his fiancée Maryanne rubs his shoulders, and Hermes and The Professor are close by, frantically scouring multiple company files for whether the insurance company will cover the shattered windows as Scruffy sweeps up the shards of glass that landed on the floor of the building on the second story. Bender sits on the curb, hunched over slightly, Fry’s hand in his.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Fry attempts, giving him a small smile. Bender frowns.

“It’s fucked up,” he mumbles, looking down at the pavement. Fry nods in agreement.

“You know, you’re right, but I think the worst part was the drawing. You looked fine, but they completely ruined my profile. Seriously, people always get my nose wrong!” he jokes. Bender gives him a withering look, pulling his hand away.

“How can you joke at a time like this?” he snaps, crossing his arms. Fry raises his eyebrows.

“There’s not much else we can do, Bender. The cops will search the best they can for the scumbags who did this, and I’m sure Hermes will get us out of having to pay for the windows to get fixed, but otherwise, there’s not much we can do but figure out how to move on,”

Bender knows that, objectively speaking, Fry is completely right, but at the moment, he really wants to be angry, and he really wants to be alone, so he storms away, huffing up a storm about being wronged. Fry rolls his eyes and resolves to let Bender have some space to cool down.

**********************

Bender knows he’s being unfair to Fry the second he disappears from his line of vision, eventually arriving at Hudson Bay, but he really can’t help it. It went without saying that Fry and Amy were the ones being targeted; after all, they were the ones dating a robot and a mutant. They were the ones lowering themselves in the eyes of society.

The image on the sign upset him the most; he was used to hateful, ignorant comments and crude jokes at his expense from those who knew of his sexuality, but the vulgar graffiti had displayed his relationship in a way that made it seem shameful and dirty; as if it was something to be mocked and scorned, as if it was anyone’s fucking business what he and Fry did in the privacy of their own home (and occasionally at work).

The slurs weren’t foreign to him; mutant/nonmutant couples were called mutts often. It was a slur almost as popular as robo or queer or faggot, and while he personally thought that it was good that Wong was having tough experiences to prepare her for the living hell that dating an open and proud mutant would bring, he still felt immense sympathy for her.

Bender clenches his fists and bows his head, trying to block the memories from his mind.

_‘No son of mine is a queer.’_

_‘Honey, are you sure about this? Boys your age often get…confused.’_

_‘It’s perfectly normal to feel this way, you just need help.’_

_‘Don’t coddle him, dear, he needs to know the truth.’_

_Images of robots with their internals torn apart, limbs violently ripped from their body, optics and antennas and any other significant body part missing; robots begging on the streets because they were fired from their jobs and evicted for their sexuality; statistics about diseases and file corruptions and suicide rates and-_

_‘Is this really a life you want? All so you can pursue some perverted desire?’_

_‘Humans just don’t understand us, honey, and they’re so fragile. Do you really a partner who you’ll outlive by centuries?’_

_‘Is this really what you want?’_

_‘What you want.’_

_‘What I wa-’_

“I’m not ashamed, damnit!” he shouts to no one in particular. The seagulls in the distance scatter at the noise.

He thinks back to how he hurt his boyfriend, how he was pushing away people he cared about to save face and buries his face in his hands.

“God, I’m turning into my old man,”

**********************

Bender doesn’t return home until long after normal hours are over at Planet Express. He wants to be sure Fry is there; he needs to apologize for snapping earlier, no matter how much it may damage his pride to do so.

When he walks in, Fry is cooking EZ Mac on their ancient stove and wearing nothing but his briefs and a loose tank top. He doesn’t notice Bender right away, or at least, he doesn’t acknowledge him, so Bender creeps up behind him and wraps his arms around him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pressing his face into the crook of Fry’s neck. He feels the other man let out a breath. He faces Bender.

“Hey yourself,” he quips, taking Bender’s hands into his. “Where did you go?”

“Around,” Bender replies vaguely. “How was work?” Fry shrugged.

“The Professor sent everyone home. Said everyone could use some time at home and told us to be back tomorrow on schedule,” Bender absorbs this information and, removing the boiling pot from the warm stove and placing it on a wood board, presses his forehead to Fry’s.

“I’m…sorry. I was an asshole earlier. I shouldn’t have blown up on you when you were only trying to lighten the mood,” he mutters, swallowing down the desire to take it back. Fry smiles that soft, dopey smile that he saves just for Bender and whispers back,

“It’s alright. I forgave you hours ago,” Bender scoffed.

“So ya mean I didn't have to apologize? Shit,” Fry laughs, and if Bender had a heart, it would melt.

“Come to bed with me,” he whispers, pressing his chapped lips to the side of Bender’s head, and just like that, he’s hoisting Fry up bridal style and carrying him away, Fry laughing hysterically the whole way.

The pot of EZ Mac lays long forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, friends! Hopefully this hiatus wasn't too bad; I just went back to school last week, and the last month or so has been a frenzy of getting ready for it/going. This is kind of a short one; I promised I have something fluffy and sweet planned for next time!


	4. Yeah, I Need To Disconnect

Things return to normal fairly quickly after the vandalism; the criminals are never caught, but there haven’t been any repeats of the incident since, so Bender rapidly loses interest, and life goes on.

Except that Fry has been shifty lately. With Leela, to be more specific.

And that? He doesn’t like that.

Every other day it seems like Fry and Leela are disappearing off to another room, finding an excuse to be alone together, and Bender can’t make sense of it, except to assume the worst.

It’s a hunch that culminates into an insecurity so strong that it actually starts an argument that night.

**********************

_Fry threw the remote away, his eyes narrowed in annoyance._

_“Okay, what the hell is up with you? You’ve been acting weird all week. I’m fucking worried,” Bender scowled._

_“Why don’t you go ask Leela for some advice? Clearly, she can give you something better than I can,” he snapped. Fry gaped, face twisting into an angry expression._

_“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he hissed, crossing his arms. Bender shot up from his spot on the couch._

_“It means, you’ve been sneaking off with Big Boots every chance you fucking get! You’ve been distant, and we haven’t fucked in weeks! Maybe a bot has the right to get fucking suspicious after all that happens at the same time,” he shouted, gesturing wildly. Fry’s face, rather than contorting further, only fell at the accusation._

_“Glad to see you think so much of me. Glad to know you trust me around my friend who’s, by the way, a lesbian, enough to not assume the worst of me,” His words were like acid, and even at a distance, they stung and corroded Bender’s metal. “I’m going for a fucking walk. Don’t wait up,”_

_Bender collapsed onto the couch the second the door slammed shut, consumed with both frustration and sorrow. He had a right to be suspicious, didn’t he? Fry goes flocking to his ex after five years of being with Bender, acting secretive, brushing off attempts at romance with no explanation, disappearing at all hours of the night…it looked bad!_

**********************

Bender can’t take the idea of being second best to anyone, especially when it comes to Fry; he’s always been extremely selfish in that regard. But after nearly a year of complete devotion and unwavering commitment, he does feels that he’s owed the title of “most important” to his own damn meatbag.

It gets tiring, spending the majority of their friendship watching Fry chase another person and then attempt to marry her. It had managed to plant seeds of doubt in him. For someone who was already jealous by nature, it’s a damn miracle this issue didn’t arise sooner.

Then again, Fry hadn’t been so eager to be alone with Leela since they had started dating.

**********************

_The wind whistles past their half-opened window; Fry’s skin is clammy with sweat, but neither of them minds enough for him to go shower. Bender’s body is sporting smudges and fingerprints from being gripped too tight, and his panel isn’t even closed, wires still crammed into random ports willy-nilly. It’s strange being able to lay back and not mind that he’s so incredibly exposed, but it’s not something he hates. He takes a puff from one of his comically large Cuban cigars, and Fry rolls over to face him._

_“I love you,” he murmurs sleepily, cuddling up against the bot. Bender sighs, low, and whispers back to him._

_“I love you, too,”_

**********************

Something feels incredibly off when Bender comes to work the next morning; it might’ve been his imagination, but his coworkers seemed more standoffish than usual. Of course, they weren’t always the friendliest with Bender to begin with; it was hard to be nice to someone who does nothing but insult you, laugh at you when shit blows up in your face, and puff fancy cigar smoke in your face at least once a day.

The most distant is Fry, who is definitely avoiding him. He leaves the break room every time Bender shows up, citing work that needed to be done, which is ridiculous, since neither of them pay that much attention to their job. His excuses begin to pile up, slowly becoming more and more absurd with each passing interaction. They range from needing to draw the Professor a bath, to helping Amy learn to play basketball, to teaching Hermes the history of the Holophoner. Anything that could get Fry away from him was fair game, it seemed.

Bender, who already has a short temper to begin with, is baffled and extremely hurt. He knew that the argument they’d had was a nasty one, and they hadn’t spoken about it since, but he can’t figure out what exactly has the rest of the crew acting so flighty. It drives him up a wall trying to figure out what he might’ve done to cause the problem and… _woah, was he actually admitting he may have screwed up?_

It’s a testament to the change Fry has brought about in him that he’s even willing to consider that maybe he’s at fault. And it has him waiting for the other shoe to drop.

**********************

The other shoe drops.

Fry and Bender argue. Loudly. In front of everyone. And God, it’s _bad_.

The catalyst ends up being a mix up at lunch about who took whose sandwich, and it culminates with Bender crying, which is incredibly embarrassing. Fry looks a little guilty, but Bender doesn’t want to hear it, and he escapes to the roof before he can witness Leela pulling Fry away.

Sometimes it hurts loving Fry this much, putting all his oil in one can. He’s well aware that Fry could change his mind and go back to dating humans, go back to being with women who are soft and sweet and gentle, instead of staying with someone who’s more machine than person, more bark than bite.

He wonders what he would do.

Maybe he doesn’t want to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter lads; I SWEAR it'll be happy ending!


	5. I Have Found A Way To Be Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth about why Fry has been avoiding Bender finally comes out.

Bender arrives home exhausted and edgy; after spending two hours on the roof of the Planet Express building, followed by jumping off the roof to avoid having to deal with his coworkers so he could go drinking, he feels unprepared to deal with any kind of domestic conflict. So when, not even a minute after walking through the door, Fry immediately makes a snide comment, he snaps.

“What is your fucking problem?!” Bender snarls. “I’m sick of this shit! You’ve done nothing but pick fights and avoid me for the last few weeks!”

“Look who’s talking,” Fry yells back, crossing his arms. “All you ever do is attack me. Maybe I’m sick of you not fucking trusting me! I can’t believe that you’re so determined to prove I’m going behind your back! What are you so jealous?!”

“I’m not jealous!” Bender shouts.

“Yes you are!” Fry shouts back.

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have to be if you didn’t spend a decade in love with someone else! You don’t fucking get it! I love you, you idiot! I can’t lose you, it’d kill me!”

Bender, despite being one for the dramatic, resists the urge to slap a hand over his mouth after that one slips out. He’s said too much; he feels exposed as the silence settles between them, the eye of a hurricane, Fry’s eyes bore holes in him. The quiet stretches on for several seconds, the cogs in Fry’s brain obviously turning as he tries to process this new information. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft.

“Do you really think I’m not in this?” Bender gawks at him, but he presses on. “No, really, do you actually think I’m not down for the count on this? That I’m not crazy in love with you?” Fry walks across the wooden floor and meets Bender on his side, wrapping his arms around the bot. “I adore you, Bender. I know I’m not…the smartest guy. But I’m not dumb enough to not see what you are to me,” he finished. Bender met his eyes.

“And what am I to you?” he murmured. Fry kissed the space above his optics.

“Well, hopefully, my husband,” he whispered.

Bender freezes, his brain short circuiting. 404 error, Bender.exe has stopped working.

“Fry…” he says in a low, shaky voice. The other pulled away from him, hunched over self consciously.

“Ah, shit. I was gonna wait until Thursday. I had us booked at the pizzeria we went on our first date to…” Fry mumbled. “…but I guess the cat’s out of the bag now,”

He went down on one knee.

“Bender, I’m like…cosmically dumb. And I’ve never been good at this kind of thing. But I mean it when I say that I can’t live without you. I know it may seem sudden, but we’ve been with each other for so much longer than the just the year we’ve been dating, and I think it’s fair to think that we’re not going to stop anytime soon. I love you.” He gripped the robots hand. “Will you make me the happiest idiot alive and be my husband,” Bender shook with emotion.

“Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot. Who else will if I don’t?” Fry slides the ring on his finger, and kisses him, hard.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been neglecting you,” Fry whispers against his mouth. “Leela was helping me plan the perfect date to pop the question. I wanted everything to be perfect for you, but I screwed it up. I just couldn’t stand another second of you thinking you’re not my whole world, Bender,”

Bender almost wants to cry with relief. All the lonely nights of the last few weeks suddenly seemed inconsequential; all his insecurities melted away in the warmth of the proposal.

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” he says, low and remorseful. Fry grabs his hand, now adorned with the sterling silver band.

“I get it, man. I would’ve probably been jealous too. I just wanted to get this right. I’m sorry it’s not much-” Bender cuts him off.

“We make our own rules. And I say that now that you’re my husband, you’re not allowed be self deprecating about this anymore. Only I get to insult you now,” Fry beamed.

“I’m good with that,”

**********************

If you had asked Bender where he saw himself in ten years even just a year ago, he probably would have said “supreme ruler of Earth” or something equally obnoxious. If you had told him that he would be in love with a human, he would’ve scoffed; if you had said that human would be Fry, he would have laughed. A cryogenically frozen caveman from the stupid ages and a smoking, boozing, kleptomaniac of a robot in love; what an absurd idea.

Then again, nothing is more absurd than love itself. The desire to anchor yourself to a single person, commit to a life together, build a foundation and a home together; it seemed a waste to tether yourself to one person, to let them cradle your heart in their hands.

Bender was not made for great things. Hell, he was barely made to do anything at all.

But for the first time in his entire life, he thinks that maybe what he was made to do doesn’t matter. Maybe what he _wants_ to do, what he’s got; maybe that’s what’s important.

 And what he’s got? It’s pretty sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your thoughts below! I hope this ending is satisfying; I can't truthfully say I'm completely content with it, but I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Peace and love, Tooti <3


End file.
